Bowl of Kimchi for the Soul
by WolfieStar
Summary: When Hong Kong falls ill, it is up to South Korea to take care of him. But when it takes a turn for the worse, all of the responsibility is on South Korea's shoulders. Based on the SARS Outbreak in HK in 2003. SouthKorea/HongKong
1. Chapter 1

Hong Kong was feeling like he got hit by a truck. A large, eighteen wheeler, going one hundred thousand miles an hour. And the truck going into reverse to hit him again. Then going forward, continuously hitting him. No, he was not feeling like he was flattened like a pancake, it was more of such painful body aches that made you want to crawl into a corner and die somewhere. Like that.

Xiang would never admit to being sick, though having all the symptoms of such. Screw the runny nose and the dry coughing. Oh damn, those body aches… He was _not _sick. Nope. The fact that his people in Hong Kong were currently expressing the same ailments meant nothing to him. Not one thing. The thing was, Xiang _never _got sick! Usually China or England would take the grunt of it, not hi-

As if on cue, the young Chinese's face twisted up as a soft sneeze erupted from his nose.

Damn. Damn damn damn. Why did he have to get sick? No matter, it wasn't that serious as of now. Maybe if he just took some aspirin he'd be fine. This was nothing, and would not turn into anything. Not one thing. Just a simple cold this was, and it would pass quickly. Overnight hopefully. All of this was just a one day bug.

'Just keep saying that, Xiang. Just keep saying that…' the Chinese man repeated in his mind, his head throbbing with pain as he maneuvered around his home in Hong Kong. His bare feet didn't make a sound as he made his way into the kitchen to make himself some Herbal Tea. China had always made that for Japan when he was sick, which for some reason, was quite often. How unusual.

South Korea was supposed to be coming over today for a visit, an uninvited one at that. An unwelcome guest as well. Xiang was in no mood for company at the moment, currently feeling like shit. Even his little panda seemed under the weather, sniffling and coughing every so often.

Still the Chinese man pushed that damn thought away. Nothing was wrong with him. He was completely fine. Not sick. Not anything. Stress, that was it. He was under too much stress. Yet, if that were the case, then Im Yong was not going to help him in any way.

A sigh left Xiang's dry lips as he began to boil hot water, his panda lazily following him. His fur was ruffled and unkempt, and had lost its beautiful shine. The fluffy animal walked slowly like it's joints hurt, occasionally making a whimpering or whining sound. Looking at how the mammal moved, he realized that the source of his body aches were from his joints as well. How…unusual. Had his panda caught the bug he had?

Xiang's head was pounding as he crushed up the herbs that would be used for the tea that would hopefully assist him and possibly serve as a decongestant. He sniffled softly as he focused on the herbs, forcing himself to not wipe his nose on his oversized sleeves. His panda curled up at his feet, its breathing heavy. The young Chinese failed to notice his own shortness of breath.

Xiang jumped when he heard his front door slam open, the sound of a familiar Korean voice running throughout the house. "Yo, Xiang! Guess who's here?"

"Could you please not kick down my doors?" Xiang grunted, sprinkling the herbs in his tea, his head pounding. He held onto the counter as Im Yong ran to the kitchen at hearing Xiang's voice, but he skidded to a halt at the doorway, seeing his eyes squeezed shut.

"Xiang…you alright there buddy, da ze?" he nervously approached the Chinese, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Almost immediately the territory cried in pain, the Korean's touch feeling like needles stabbing into his skin. Quickly retracting his arm, Im Yong cried, "Xiang! What's wrong?"

Everything started to get fuzzy as everything spun around the younger Chinese. Im Yong's voice became muffled, and he was falling. Falling into nothing as everything faded to black. Warm arms were around him in a comforting hold as he lost consciousness.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading this fic.<strong>

**I had actually written this chapter a month or two ago, and I finally found it and decided to clean it up a bit and post it. So it may not be the best that it could be. And yes, this is actually a bit historical, for it's based on a real event. It's based on the SARS (severe acute respitory syndrome) Outbreak in Hong Kong in 2003. Meaning, the illness Hong Kong has will not be pretty.**

**Xiang is my fanname for Hong Kong.**

**This will be HKorea, my first fic for these two. So I am very sorry if any of the characters are OOC. It is not intentional.**

**Please leave feedback.**


	2. Chapter 2

Quickly, Korea had grabbed Hong Kong when he saw him falling to keep him from colliding with the ground. He was blinking, wide-eyed as he watched the Chinese closely, adjusting his hold on him. The personification of Hong Kong's face was unnaturally pale, and his breathing was slightly labored. Korea was beyond confused over what had happened to Xiang. He appeared fine, then suddenly, collapsed.

"Y-Yo! Xiang! Wake up!" the Korean gently shook his shoulder, wanting to get a response from him. Yet was awarded with none, though he didn't really expect one at the moment. Sighing, Korea scooped up the fallen Xiang in his arms and carried him into the living room, trying to not trip on the panda laying in the middle of the doorway as he did so.

Im Yong carefully laid Xiang on the couch, propping his feet up on the armrest, slipping a pillow underneath his head. Watching him, he wondered what had happened to him. Was he sick? Seriously injured? Poisoned? Or maybe…!

Im Yong mentally smacked himself. He'd been watching too many K-Dramas…

"Jeez…Xiang, what's wrong with ya?" Im Yong mumbled, placing a hand to his forehead, feeling his skin burning hot to the touch. He bit his lip, pulling his hand away, glancing down at the miserable looking Xiang. "What do I do…?"

Suddenly Im Yong snapped his fingers, reaching for the phone on the end table nearby. "That's it! I'll call China! He'll know what to do!" pleased with himself, he dialed Yao's number, waiting impatiently for the answer.

"Nihao, You've reached Wang Yao! Leave a message after the-"

"Dammit!" Korea yelled, slamming the phone down on the receiver, crossing his arms angrily. Now what would he do…? Immediately he started pacing back and forth, nervously starting to nibble on his fingernails. A disgusting habit, yes, but a stress reliever when he was so upset. "Gah! What do I do? What do I doooo?"

Korea looked back at Hong Kong, then realized that just feeling his forehead wasn't an accurate way of checking a fever, so he quickly ran to go find a thermometer. Of course, it had taken him longer than he would have liked to find the instrument in the first place, not used to closets and such in Xiang's home. Yet he had found it eventually, though he was thoroughly cranky and his patience was wearing thin at the time.

"…alright…" Korea mumbled, opening the see-through plastic case the thermometer was in. Jeez. This guy was fancy… he blinked when he saw a folded up piece of paper fall out. Raising an eyebrow, he quickly skimmed it, just to double check to see what he was doing. He had a tendency to do simple things wrong under pressure.

"Ok, I can do this…" he took a deep breath, looking it over one more time. " 'Place thermometer either under the tongue, under the armpit, or…' " the Korean paled as he read the rest of what it said. "No…I am NOT putting it down there!"

Korea shut his eyes tightly, focusing on his breathing to calm down. "Ok…it said 'either'…meaning I don't have to put it down THERE…" he swallowed hard, gently parting Xiang's lips and slipping the thermometer under his tongue.

Waiting for that beep was the most stressful time Korea had ever remembered. When it finally beeped he yanked it out a bit too roughly from Xiang's mouth, checking the reading real quick. He felt his heart sink when he saw the numbers.

"Holy sh*t…" Korea mumbled, looking at Xiang. "Idiot! Look what happened when you don't take care of yourself! Now you have a temperature of 103.8! That's way too high!" his fist clenched, glaring at the unconscious man on the bed. Sighing again, he ran his fingers through his hair, his ahoge bouncing from the movement.

"Xiang…what do I do?" Im Yong whispered to Hong Kong, kneeling down next to him, sweeping his bangs out of his face. "I-I don't…is something going on with your country? Is that it? You're never sick…"

Korea had begun to pace, running his fingers through his dark brown straight hair.


End file.
